


Secondary Suite

by CaitClandestine



Category: Anth, Anth Melo - Fandom, Conor Maynard - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Basically Just 6000 Words of Needy Conor and Dirty Talking Anth, Conor Misses Anth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitClandestine/pseuds/CaitClandestine
Summary: Long distance means Conor has missed Anth a lot.





	Secondary Suite

**Author's Note:**

> I have never really dabbled in listening to uh, whatever genre of sexy spanishy songs these two love to cover are but many repeats later here we are and here this is
> 
> Not sure if people like Anth or not, he was kind of lacking in the story department when I searched but I am prepared to captain this ship right along with Conor/Jack and Conor/Jack/Anth (Working on latter... ;))

Conor’s not one to let pleasure get in the way of business so he throws himself fully into the neatly white-boarded plan he and Anth have for their first day in the studio, channels all his energy and feelings into the variety of things they want to work on, a couple of covers, an original and a collab with a special quest who’ll be coming by later in the week. 

It works out to a point, he mostly stops thinking about how he’s only been back in Tampa for two days and how many, many months they’ve been apart and he throws out ideas at a rate of knots, pacing back and forth across the studio floor, playing out ideas on the piano, Anth matching him until they both start to wind down just after the suns set, intensity exchanged for fleshing out ideas with ice cold beers in hand. 

The itch creeps up on him slowly and part of Conor finds it absolutely ridiculous what Anth does to him, how he still wants so much like they haven’t taken full advantage of that despite living with his family Anth has his own little one room place up behind their house, like they didn’t head straight from airport to Anth’s bed and then the shower, making up for all the time apart with nothing but voice and video. 

He shouldn’t be so fucking hard in his trackpants again now, knowing that they’d even fucked this morning, sun flickering through the window in Anth’s room and bouncing off his skin like he’s some kind of angel and Conor’s stretched and sore but all he wants is more. He doesn’t bother with trying to be subtle – there’s no hiding in these pants anyway, they’re not that loose. He stands up from the piano and goes over to where Anth’s sitting, focused on the laptop in front of him and leans over his shoulder, noses against his neck.

“Let’s call it a day” Conor suggests, making the words low and breathy as he trails his lips up to Anth’s ear, who sighs like he’s incredibly put out by the suggestion.

“Again?” He asks, but there’s already a lazy smile on his head as leans back to look at him. 

“It’s not my fault” Conor says coyly, “You look so good when you’re working”

Anth spins his chair then, arms around Conor’s waist in an instant, sliding down and squeezing his ass with both hands and a stupid smirk finds it’s way onto his face when he’s notices Conor’s not so little problem. 

“C’mere” Conor doesn’t get a chance to, instantly being pulled forward to straddle Anth’s lap in the chair, thankful there’s no arm rests so he can get right up against him and the fact that the chairs up high enough that he can’t touch the floor like this, has to rely entirely on Anth to stop him from sliding away every time he rocks his hips up is just making things worse. 

Anth keeps a hand on his ass and brings the other up around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair and pulling him down, pushing him straight into a kiss and Conor’s never been kissed the way Anth kisses him, hadn’t known that he’d ever want to be kissed like it, let someone else pull every breath from him, demand everything he’s got to offer and when he tries to break them apart just to shift his weight more evenly Anth groans low in his chest and smacks his ass, the sharp pain of it racing through Conor’s body right to his cock and all he can do his whimper into Anth’s mouth.

He’s too hot all of a sudden, sweat prickling at his back and he wants his shirt off, all of their clothes off but Anth traps his hands when he tries to move them, catches them in his own and is pushing him backwards, strong hold on him until he finds his feet and then he stands up so that they’re pressed so tightly together he can feel Anth’s every breath.

“What about what I want” Anth says slowly, looking him right in the eye, “What if I want to keep working?”

“You don’t” Conor says breathlessly, he can feel Anth is against him like this, how he’s not the only one in pants that aren’t loose enough.

“You’re right” Anth agrees and he’s stepping away then, across the room and digging through Conor’s bag and he’s always prepared, doesn’t care if people find out and Anth easily finds what he wants, lube and a condom and Conor can’t stop himself from narrowing his eyes at the other man because they usually don’t. 

“Don’t look at me like that, we are not making a mess in here” Anth says, also picking up a spare t-shirt and Conor wants exactly that, for Anth to pin him up against the wall or ride him on the chair and be made absolutely filthy but also considers that they have another week on their studio lease and it’ll definitely be extra if they have to have it cleaned. 

“Figure it out” Anth says, not moving back towards him but instead to his beer, tilting his head back to down what’s left at the bottom of the bottle, playing aloof like he doesn’t feel exactly the same need that Conor does and he doesn’t know what he wants, indecision curling hot in his stomach and he knows that’s exactly why Anth’s doing it, making him choose where he wants to get fucked.  
He looks at the chair, considers the sound booth with it’s soft walls before he decides to go with something he knows Anth’ll really like, walking over to the mixing desk and leaning his hands on it, cocking out his hips just enough to know that the material of his trackpants is going to draw tight against his ass in invitation. He knows it’s the right choice when Anth nearly knocks his bottle over in his haste to put it back down.

“You can’t be real” He says, “Look at you, in the fucking studio over the fucking desk waiting for me”

Conor just leans over further to make his point and Anth’s smacking his ass again, solid hits on each side before pulling his pants and underwear down together in one swift movement, leaving them tangled around his knees and Conor spreads his feet apart as far as the material will let him. The spare t-shirt drops in front of him and it takes everything he’s got not to look around and see what Anth’s taking his sweet time with before there’s a hand on his back and slick fingers pressing up against him, Anth’s skin cool against his own.

He goes to reach for his cock when Anth slides two fingers in and the hand on his back grabs the back of his neck tightly.

“Don’t, not having you put your hands on yourself and then on the desk, just wait”

Anth’s not playing with him, fingers stretching him out firm and deep and all Conor can do is push back against them and he has to brace himself, head bowed and arms already starting to tremble under his own weight.

“Today maybe” He tries for suave but his voice cracks and he still doesn’t know why he’s so desperate, wonders if maybe the time apart has messed up his brain somehow, made him so wanton.

Anth laughs, husky and low and the fingers disappear, leave him waiting before he’s got one hand around his waist and the other up against him, holding him up and cheeks apart so he can slide his cock in in one easy movement, both of them moaning in unison and Conor shivers all over all over when he realises that Anth’s not even bothered to do more than pull his own pants down just enough to get his cock out, that if someone were to walk in he could pull them up like it’s nothing and Conor would be the one bent over and exposed.

Conor’s hands are sweaty, leaving wet marks on the faux leather edge of the desk and as Anth starts to fuck into him he starts to slip with every thrust.

“If you mess up the settings i’ll stop” Anth warns, “You wanted this, you stay there” and Conor clenches around him like he doesn’t love when he’s being told what to do like this, grips tighter to the tiny piece of edging.

Anth gets a hand on each of hips to hold him still, hold him just where he wants him and Conor’s too close for long they’ve been going, already panting from the steady, relentless pace Anth’s set.

“A-anth” He cries out, “Fuck, I can’t” If they maybe slowed down he could try and get himself together but if anything he’s suddenly getting fucked harder, every press inside him pushing him closer and closer and he whines.

“Not really an issue” Anth says shakily, “Not the only one who looks good when he’s working” 

There’s a hand on his cock then, Anth jerking him the same rhythm.

“Shirt” He gasps what feels like seconds later, knows he’s no where near capable of being able to lift a hand from the desk and really not wanting to find out how Anth could ruin things for him if he does actually come on it and Anth groans loudly, hand sliding from him to grab the shirt and then it’s back and the rough sensation of the fabric being stroked over him is all too much, hits him so quickly that Conor doesn’t have time to make any other sound that a long, loud moan, idly thought in the back of his blissed out mind that it’s actually pretty in key considering that Anth’s still driving into him, short snaps of his hips until he’s all the way inside and staying there and Conor can feel the way the other man’s thighs are quivering against the back of his own, whines out when Anth says his name with just the slightest roll of his tongue as he comes.

They stay in position for long enough that Conor’s able to catch his breath and has time to wonder if it he could wait like this, bent over and with Anth inside him until he’s hard again, clenching so tightly around Anth he pinches his ass before sliding out and Conor’s a little disappointed that he’s only sticky from the lube, nothing to try and hold inside and not make a mess.

He’s a little wavery on his feet when he stands up and turns around to press his lips to Anth’s in a lazy kiss, plays it up if only so Anth’s strong arms will wrap around him to hold him up, keep kissing him.

Conor basks in the afterglow as Anth drives them back across the city through the tail end of peak hour traffic, seat back and he’s all soft and warm and just _pleased_ , wearing Anth’s leather jacket because he’d forgotten how cool the nights can be despite the humidity and it smells like him, wraps around him like a blanket and he could nod off if not for one thing.

Anth’s got a new car. There’d been nothing notable about his previous ride, a cheap hand me down from a family friend but this one is new, one he’s paid for outright and despite everyone jokingly calling the deep blue SUV the pimpmobile because of the maybe a little bit ridiculous chrome rims Anth’s added to it Conor has a bit of thing for watching him anywhere near it, the way he looks so much older and stronger and in-charge even though they both definitely need the step-ups on each side to get in, the way his hand curls around the gear stick and says he went manual because he likes it which Conor doesn’t get, one of the many reasons he’s not allowed anywhere near the drivers seat but he’ll be damned if doesn’t like watching Anth do it, especially when they’re stuck in traffic and he’s getting increasingly frustrated, jamming the gear stick up and down a little rougher than he normally does.

It shouldn’t do things to Conor like it is when they literally just finished fucking, there’s got to be something wrong with him, wrong with the way that he’s wondering just how tinted the windows really are, reaching down to adjust himself and he’s still far too sensitive, flinches away from his own touch, clenching and feeling how he’s still slick and he hisses and Anth definitely notices.

“Babe” He says, nickname only he can get away when Conor’s like this and he is so like it right now. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Uh?” Is the only response that springs to mind. Conor has no idea what he’s doing, knows that Anth won’t stand for being distracted while he’s driving and the guilt of it mixes weirdly with the itch that’s starting to crawl across his skin again.

“Nothing” He amends, “Just wanna get home”

Anth raises an eyebrow at him but eventually has to turn back to the road. “Whatever you say”

They both wave to Anth’s aunt as they pull past the family home, sun nearly set and the itch is definitely back even if Conor can freely admit to not trying all that hard to stop it, mind racing with every single pent up fantasy he’s had since they were last together and he knows he’s getting hard again at the thought of what Anth’s going to think when he finds out. 

He jumps down from the car and slams the door a little too loudly behind him, follows Anth around to the back to grab their bags and then up to the front door and he thinks fuck it, presses Anth against the hallway wall as soon as they’re safely inside where no one can see. 

“Conor?” Anth’s voice is curious as Conor rests his head on the other mans shoulder and just breathes, Anth always smells so good and it’s calming, soothes how frantic he feels.

“I missed you” He mumbles into Anth’s shirt, hands wiggling up underneath the hem because he needs to touch all that soft skin, how warm it is under his fingers, wrapping around Anth’s waist and nuzzling into him even more. “I missed you so much”

He has all kind of feelings, the kind that he’ll write into songs he’ll never finish, lyrics that might not even leave his head and it’s not the time right now but he’s so torn between wanting to curl up into Anth’s arms and not ever leave and really wanting to get a hand in each of their pants. 

“Hey hey, I missed you too” Anth whispers back, hand coming to curl gently through his hair, tapping twice on the very top of his head. “What’s going on in there?”

“I have no idea” Conor confesses, “It’s just, we should sit down and have dinner and watch a movie and cuddle because that’s what I want and we should, but I just can’t, I want - “

He can’t bring himself to say it, presses his half-hard cock right against Anth’s thigh and feels the other man’s hand stop scratching at his head when he realises. 

“Ah” Anth says, and Conor can hear the smirk in his voice. “So you missed and you _missed me_ , yeah?

Conor knows he’s blushing.

“It’s been like an hour since I fucked you and that was the second time today” Anth’s voice has dropped low and Conor bites his lip at the sound, hates how he can change from so caring to downright illegal, “But you want more don’t you, that’s how much you missed me that you need me again and again and again?”

All Conor can do is nod, the embarrassment doing nothing but fueling the ache inside him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about it, what you’re picturing” Anth’s voice is light again, sweet and soft and he’s pulled Conor away from him enough that they can look at each other. “I know you got it all figured out, don’t think I don’t have candles and a playlist if that’s what you want right now”

If anything, Anth’s sincerity makes Conor want even more. They’re constantly switching between the kind of sex that makes even Jack blush and being achingly gentle with each other, the kind of comfortably intense that makes Anth threaten him if he says making love more than once but that’s what it is then but it’s not what Conor wants right now, wants Anth to be cocky and filthy and in control of him, to decide just what happens between them.

He doesn’t reply, instead turning Anth’s head towards him and giving him the kind of kiss that covers all he’d say anyway, tongue in Anth’s mouth and hands under his shirt again, rubbing at chest. 

“Bedroom” Anth says and the dark voice is back and Conor lets himself be led there, the two of them stopping every few steps just so Anth can grab his ass or kiss him over and over, kicking their shoes off before they get to his room, Conor’s legs hitting the end of the bed and letting himself fall. Anth drops to his knees and he shivers, leans up on his elbows to watch the other man pull his socks off and push the bottoms of his trackpants up to trail kisses up one ankle and then the other before he’s prowling up Conor’s body, arms on either side of his head and they’re kissing again, Anth knowing exactly how much weight to rest on top of him and Conor can’t stand it, jacket too hot and he wants them to be skin to skin.

He runs his hand under Anth’s shirt again, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as he rolls his hips up and he can barely breath it’s already so much and not enough and Anth actually laughs into his mouth before he pulls away so he’s sitting on Conor like he could ride him if they just lost their pants, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head, gold chain of his necklace swinging against his chest and Conor has to get his hands on him, starting at his soft stomach and working his way up, stopping to roll Anth’s nipples between his fingers just for the hiss the other man makes, looking down at him like he’s everything.

Anth strips him down, tugging the jacket from his shoulders and then his shirt and letting them drop carelessly to the floor, sliding his trackpants and underwear down and off his legs, hand reaching out to trail along Conor’s cock and his hips jump up and he bites his lip to try and not to whine as the other man just winks at him and climbs off the bed to remove his own pants, the clink of his belt making Conor imagine the leather on him, tying him down because he’s incapable of controlling himself and his cock actually twitches at the idea and Anth’s smirk returns. 

“Gonna share that thought?” He asks and Conor absolutely doesn’t, shakes his head and feels the blush on his cheeks return, especially as Anth steps towards his bedside table, going for the bottom drawer and the lube which should really be a top drawer thing otherwise he’s going to put his back out if he has to keep reaching for it before he’s back on the bed, the two of them chest to chest.

Conor throws his leg over Anth’s side so they can get as close as possible, cocks pressing together and he groans into the movement, Anth’s hand grabbing at his ass and grinding them together.

“Some of us aren’t quite there yet” Anth says and he’s still mostly soft, cock tucked against Conor’s own, “But I think I can keep you in hand until then”

The lube clicks open and Conor tries to shift them even closer, draw his leg up higher so Anth can reach over it to press slick fingers straight against his hole, rubbing around and then trailing up to tug at his balls, already resting heavy and aching before sliding back down and then there’s two inside him, Anth’s thumb stroking where he’s barely stretched around him and Conor’s breath hitches, a groan forcing it’s way from his throat as Anth starts to move them, pulling them all the way out before going right back in and the sound of it makes his chest shudder, hands clinging desperately around Anth’s neck.

A third finger slides in and he’s being treated so good, fingered exactly the way he loves it and Conor’s so caught up in want he doesn’t know what to do with himself, can’t keep himself still, has to grind down onto Anth’s hand and forward against his stomach and grip at his back and he’s breathless with it.

It’s intimate in way that no other position quite is for them, the way Anth catches his gaze and holds it, noses rubbing against each other, feet tangled and it’s best for slow and deep, previous occasions where Anth’s literally fucked him for hours, stringing him out and making him plead for more and lord knows Conor’s enjoying it, could let Anth keep going until he spills between them but he wants to be fucked again, feels sinful for how much he aches to have something more inside him again.

“Please, fuck” He pleads and he can feel that Anth’s half-hard now and Conor manages to untangle a hand from his hair to reach down between them to stroke him, Anth’s turn to groan and fuck up into his hand. 

“Still working on it baby boy, i’m fucking tryin’ real hard and you’re pretty as a picture right now, you just gotta wait a little longer”

Anth’s got a rhythm going, probably has a song playing in his head to match it and Conor tries to take deep breaths and settle into it, relax as much as he can until Anth misses a beat and then presses a tiny kiss to his forehead.

“Maybe though” He says thoughtfully, ignoring Conor’s hips still fucking down on his now motionless fingers, “Maybe you don’t want to wait, maybe you just can’t”

Conor whines, doesn’t know where Anth’s going with this, the other man knows he can barely take being teased on any other day and he’s already far too strung out for it.

“Please” He says again, “Anth”

“Maybe you want more than me” Anth continues, “Got your toy down in the drawer, you want it?”

“Oh god” Conor breathes, whole body flushing with the knowledge that Anth can see right through him and how wanton he is, that he’s so hard up he can’t even wait for him to be hard enough to fuck him properly, has to offer to fuck him with a toy because his fingers aren’t enough. 

“Yeah, yeah”

It’s suddenly all Conor wants, flashbacks of all the times he’d been fucked with the dildo they’d actually had to go out to real store to get, hoods up and sunglasses on just to find the perfect one, one that matches Anth’s mocha skin almost perfectly, just the right weight and size of it to almost be too much and they’d used it the night before he’d flown home all those months ago so he had something to remember, an ache to sit on for the entire flight only made worse by Anth confessing the very morning he was flying out that there was no fucking way he was leaving with their last experience being not his cock inside, fucking him in the shower hours before he had to go and leaving his mark.

Anth’s fingers twist a final time inside him before he’s drawing them out and pulling away and Conor knows logically that he has to move to get to the drawer but he hates how he’s suddenly clenching around nothing, cool air rushing against his skin where they’d been touching. He reaches out across the bed, traces his fingers across the jagged pink scar that rests in the small of Anth’s back, the one he gets a different story for every time he asks before trailing down to the curve of his ass because Anth’s not the only one who likes something to grab onto. 

The toy appears beside him soon enough, Anth turning around and Conor leans up on an arm to kiss him, drag him closer again like they’re supposed to be, like he needs to be. Anth grabs a pillow with his free hand.

“On your back” He murmurs, “Wanna see how much you like it”

Conor obliges, lets the pillow come to rest underneath him, hips tilted up and this time Anth doesn’t move to stop him when he reaches to stroke himself a few times, spreading his legs and bracing his feet against the soft sheets and Anth doesn’t make him wait, abundantly slicking up the toy just like he likes it, wetting his fingers before they press back inside him and he whines in protest. 

“Today maybe” He reuses his words from earlier, manages to keep his voice steady this time and Anth just raises a perfect eyebrow at him, curling his fingers and making him automatically default back to a low groan as he rocks down onto him again.

“That’s what I thought” Anth says smoothly and he keeps his new position, fingers against his prostate again and again, waves of pleasure making Conor have to curl his hands in the sheets just to steady himself and what little control he’s holding onto falters when he feels Anth’s little finger just brushes against his rim and he throws his head back onto the pillow and moans so loudly he actually has to look at the window to make sure it’s shut tight, that the neighbours right behind them can’t hear him. 

The thought of it sends another shiver down his spine and the feeling is gone then, Anth’s fingers disappearing and almost immediately the blunt head of the toy is pressing against him, popping right in with a filthy wet sound and he’s stretched out enough that it’s nothing but slick, solid pressure, filling him like he needs to be and Anth doesn’t stop sliding it in, doesn’t give him time to catch his breath until he can feel the thick base of the balls on the end of it tight up against him and there’s a weight on his chest he swears comes from the sensation of being so full, knowing that there’s literally no more for him to take and when he clenches down on it Anth holds it steady so it won’t slide back out even an inch, makes him hold it inside and Conor can’t stand it not moving, starts moving himself, tiny little rolls of his hips, dragging himself up off the toy a few inches and then rocking back down all of his own accord and Anth’s just watching him, tongue held between his teeth.

“You really just can’t wait” Anth says eventually, long torturous minutes where he’s just been a physical anchor for the toy and Conor’s hair is starting to stick to his head with how sweaty he is from trying to fuck himself down like he wants Anth to do. “Stuffed full but you want to be fucked full, huh?”

“Anth, come on” He manages to pant out, thighs trembling with the effort to trying to lift himself up again, “Please stop fucking with me, please”

“Oh i’ll fuck with you” Anth’s expression turns almost predatory for a moment and then Conor’s getting what he’s asked for, Anth fucking the toy into him, pulling it so far back Conor can feel himself stretch for the tiny difference around the width of the head and he actually relaxes into it now that he doesn’t have to work so hard, just has to lie there and take it like he should because Anth wants him to.

His cock’s red now, curved up against his belly and he touches himself again, thrusting up into his fist and then down against the toy in a well practised dance.

“Yeah, that’s it” Anth’s practically humming the words out as he keeps driving the toy into him, “Maybe this’ll finally be enough for you to stop throwing yourself at me, if I fuck you good enough with this big plastic cock, you know it’s bigger than me, is that want you really want, me to to make you roll over and fucking beg to be split open?”

Anth looses himself when they’re like this, accent creeping in and the words are so dirty that Conor doesn’t know what to do with them, hips stuttering as he can no longer keep up with way he’s getting fucked and it’s so good he can’t even find the words to reply, just lets Anth keep filling him while he executes a fumbling roll of his body, feeling filthier than he’s sure he ever has as the toy might actually spin inside him and Anth makes a surprised sound before there’s a hand around his waist helping him turn over, not so much onto his hands and knees but flat against the bed apart the pillow his cocks now smothering in sticky precome and he doesn’t think he could get up if he tried, every part of him quivering with how good he feels and the change in position makes it far too easy for Anth to readjust the toy to press in all the right places over and over and Conor doesn’t even mind that he’d have to lift his body to get to his cock because he’s not going to need to, knows he’s going to come just like this, rutting down into the pillow.

“If you’re gonna fuck me” He pants out, “Get on that” 

There’s no way he’s going to be able to hold himself back in a minute, knows Anth won’t make him and he’s got to be hard enough know and even if he isn’t he could take him, stretched and slick enough.

Anth’s hand strokes up and down his back, nails down his spine. 

“Don’t think I will, you look too good like this” He says conversationally and Conor makes the most disagreeable noise he can at the moment, somewhere between a grunt and a groan because that’s not what he wants, the toy so fucking good but it’s not Anth’s cock and Conor can’t keep still with the panic racing through that he’s going to miss out, not get what he’s been wanting all day and the days before and the months before that.

“No, want” He gasps out desperately, “Anth”

“I want to see you finish like this” Anth soothes, “I promise you won’t go to sleep without my come inside, know how much you love it, come on”

Anth’s never been one to break his promises and Conor shakily tries to piece himself back together, focuses his brain on nothing but the feel of the toy inside him, Anth fucking him so deep with it and he doesn’t have to try and wait for him and he thinks nothing of Anth’s hand leaving his back and squeezing at his thighs and down to press where he’s stretched so tight beyond the pleasure it gives him until there’s a firm grip on his balls, slick and holding them just enough that it tugs with the force of each thrust and Conor’s gone, sound stuck in his throat as his entire body goes taut and he stops breathing, everything a whitewashed haze as he’s soaks the pillow and Anth just fucks him through the jerks of his hips and he’s trembling all over, tears at the corner of his eyes dropping into the sheets underneath him until he whines and Anth slows down and he can barely breath, shoulders shaking as the toy slips out of him, wet and warm between his legs before Anth’s crawling up beside him, arms around him and rubbing every bit of skin he can reach and Conor needs the contact, mouthing at Anth’s neck and holding him tightly.

“So good” Anth croons at him, “So good”

Anth keeps holding him, tracing winding patterns across his sweaty skin until Conor returns to his body proper, knows he might as well be the poster child for the phrase fucked out, eyelids heavy and Anth around him, keeping him safe and making him feel like he’s everything. Anth lays small kisses along his hairline and Conor’s aware that he’s hard now, could make good on his promise but every part of him is limp with pleasure and he waits to see what Anth wants him to do. 

“What if I wanted to fuck you now” Anth murmurs eventually, hand reaching down to stroke himself. “Even after you’ve been fucked so good already, think you couldn’t take it”

He reaches a finger to run along Conor’s limp cock, makes him shiver at the sensation. “Fuck you while you’re still soft”

The finger trails up behind his balls, rubbing the lube Conor knows is everywhere against his skin until it’s pressed at his hole and all he can do is breathe. “Fuck you while you’re still wet and open”

The finger slides in and Conor can feel it, can feel how loose and well fucked he is and he shivers with the idea that Anth could keep fucking him until he’s open properly, gaping for him and it feels like nothing when he clenches around his finger, Anth adding another, pushing them up as far as he can and Conor flinches at how too much it is as they weigh up against his prostate and he doesn’t know if he could take it, already wants to pull away but simultaneously wants to be stretched out all over again. 

“Talk to me” Anth coaxes, “Too much?”

“Yeah, I don’t think, not all the way” Conor confesses, Anth’s fingers really are too much right now, making him tense up and start to tremble again and at his words they slide back a little, just inside him and it’s okay like that, not so sensitive.

“Good just there” He continues and he knows Anth could probably fuck him like that, shallow enough for him to take it. “You promised” He adds, wants to be marked up, claimed.

Anth hums at him, hand still working on his own cock and Conor moves a hand down too, wraps it over the other mans and adds a little pressure and Anth swallows loudly.

“Gonna hit you with a thought” He says, “Don’t want to ruin how good you’ve been” 

A tiny part of Conor likes the praise, wants to be ruined.

“Maybe I get myself off, keep some fingers in you so you’re ready for me, how about that, get myself so close and then open you up, just the head of my cock inside when I come, yeah, fill you up?

There’s very little itch left for Conor to scratch at this point but he finds himself whimpering and a curl of dirty warmth in his gut anyway, wants Anth to feel just as good as he does right now.

“Yes” He says, drawing out the word, “Want that”

He lets Anth move him then, shift him as he pleases, body warm and pliable as he finds himself half-on Anth’s chest, one leg pulled over the other mans hips so can do just want he wants, two fingers sliding back inside him and Conor wiggles around to find the most comfortable spot before he relaxes, close enough that Anth can nip and suck at the freckles on his neck as he starts to stroke himself again and he loves how exposed it makes him feel to just be lying there waiting, Anth’s fingers doing nothing but plugging him up, keeping him open. He can help but clench down on them over and over, thighs twitching with the stimulation he’s still not sure he can deal with even like this but it’s good and every time he does it Anth’s breath hitches.

“So fucking hot when you do that” Anth breathes against his neck, “Give you what you want real soon”


End file.
